


These Four Walls

by theglamourfades



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Healing, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglamourfades/pseuds/theglamourfades
Summary: A haven, happiness, the place her heart has called home. Can these things possibly remain when she returns, a changed person? Two parter, set post 4.5. Trigger warning due to S4 content.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was the toughest fic I've ever written, but also one of the most fulfilling as I felt it was important to 'fill in the gaps' of the S4 plotline.
> 
> I wanted to be true to as Anna as possible and really let this be about her. And as her relationship with John is such a big part of who she is, he does of course feature too. This is my interpretation of the missing 'cottage scenes' from S4, and how the cottage contributes to and is a vital part of Anna's healing. I used guidance from some really great online resources, and I just hope I've done it justice.
> 
> Trigger warning for S4 content, though nothing graphic.

The rain continued to fall, much as it had on and off throughout the night, clattering softly upon the roof. It had been in the air for days, holding on for something, the right moment. _They had to arrive. April showers._ It had probably collected in the brim of her hat, soaked through to her skin from the sleeves of her coat. Perhaps it had just been a spritz, or had it been dry after all, the moon clear and giving off an impossible warmth as it had lit the paths?

She would have worried about the fail of her memory, if it had at all occurred to her. How she had wished for this, seemingly hopelessly, for so long. She should embrace it. Nothing, bar some small thudding noise that sounded too far away to affect her, had registered with Anna since she had found herself within these four walls.

Here, again.

Disbelief. She'd wake up at any moment, be pulled away, pulled back. She should press her palms to them, cling on until her knuckles were bright white.

Her eyes were open, blinking, then staring just left of the door, where the rest of the world had been shut out and left her alone for a little while.

Not alone.

_You're home now_.

His voice resonated, burrowed itself through the blankness she felt. The words wrapped themselves around her like a blanket. Neither had said much on the way. She didn't think she had uttered a single word. He seemed stiffer, straighter in his gait, afraid of stumbling. She had been striding with greater confidence, almost bolting ahead of his slower steps. She had got used to going at a pace remembered from years ago again. Her natural pace? She couldn't recall. Anticipation was taking over her, the sensation overpowering and burning in her brain. It was as almost as though she had never set down these paths before.

It would be easy enough to settle back. After all, for most of her life she had known no different. Each day had been a refashioning of the one before. She would sit at the corner of the table, head dipped down and hands working away until the lamp was burned down almost completely, and save for Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes be the last one left up, avoiding the eyes that would fall upon her at intervals through the evening. They never asked but she had her answers rehearsed and ready if they ever should. It was just until her Ladyship found a new maid, and then just until the new maid was properly settled within the role. It wouldn't be long, and Mr Bates understood. The words even seemed to convince her if she said them enough. Before he came down each night, readying himself to leave, she would get up and find some task to busy herself. If she couldn't find anything to do, she would simply stand, in the laundry room or sometimes one of the closets, confined and quiet. It was wearing enough to have to greet him each morning, as he insisted on waiting at the foot of the stairs for her to come down. To have to be there, avoiding his gaze that kept trying to seek her out as he made to depart, was too cruel, even for her who needed to become accustomed to such cruelty.

Eventually he would give up. He would have to. Her heart shattered from the splinters it was already in to think of it, but it had to happen. It was no way for someone who had done nothing wrong to live. It would be strange of course, to still be married in name, but living completely separate lives. Yet there was no other way. At least like this, she could still keep a part of him, a memory of when she was his alone, unsoiled, unspoiled. The flame of the lamp grew increasingly dim, wavered weakly and then flickered away to nothing.

_Better a broken heart than a broken neck._

The room felt strange to her, the starched sheets made of ice and scorching her limbs. She would not be there long enough to feel it; mere seconds and she was out again, perching herself on the foot of the bed where she would stay until sunlight started to plea at the curtains, trying to clear her mind of all thoughts. Trying to get used to being alone again. The touch of her right foot against her left startled her so that she nearly leapt to the ceiling, and she couldn't stop shaking.

It was no way for someone who had done nothing wrong to live. She swallowed, repressing the bile that rose in her throat and the tears that were burning her eyes.

It had only been an hour, if that, when she had retired upstairs, John leaving her with a look that had been as comforting as his words. She took that comfort with her as she climbed underneath the covers, bringing them around her. Somehow she didn't feel suffocated, not here. Exhaustion had seen to it that she was asleep within moments of her head hitting the pillow. It was the first night that she had slept through, undisturbed. She had almost slept too long into the morning, until she made out the soft shuffles from below the floorboards. Tears once again formed at her eyes as she thought upon them but she wiped them away quickly, dressing at speed and not looking at the items that made the room not just hers, but theirs.

She should have stayed up longer, fought off the fatigue that was quick enough to claim her. She hadn't had long enough to appreciate everything again. The tree that hung its branches over into the yard from next door, the slightly chipped china that held the breakfast tea. The feelings that still remained familiar to her being here, just more distant now.

She had been aware of nothing but her feet firm upon the floor, her hands gripping the handles of her purse, and now her teeth clenching tight together in her mouth, making her jaw ache. The last time they had left here together, her arm slipping effortlessly into the crook of his before he shut the door behind them and smiled down at her, had been that morning. When neither of them had the slightest idea of how everything would become torn apart.

His half step was light upon the floor in the hallway, softer than the sound of the rapidly diminishing rain.

"Should wait until it goes off."

It took a while for her to hear him; everything seemed to take longer to arrive now, like a train with a failing engine pulling itself against its better will into the station. He smiled at her, not quite the same as before, and she offered a weak one in return, trying to build it up the longer she looked at him.

He moved, so slowly towards her and not even reaching out, and still she flinched, the violent motion shuddering her to the core. She hated herself instantly, her eyes dropping to the floor, desperate for him not to perceive how very broken she was, though she couldn't very well hide, not now she was back here.

"Just a bit nippy," she uttered, voice hollow in her ears, as he simply nodded at her reply.

How long would it take for her to stop pretending? Perhaps the habit was too deeply ingrained now. She was cold, though. Part of her yearned to make him open his arms to her, but she was too afraid of falling apart within them.

"You don't have to go." He was the one to break the silence, again, standing back from her but not so far that she couldn't reach for him if she wished. "I can say that you're ill, that I need to stay back to make sure you're okay. It could be for a few days, Mrs Hughes would understand."

The thought was sorely tempting; God knows she certainly looked awful enough to be convincing. No need to hide anymore,  _you've done it for long enough_.

"No, I must get on."

She sounded surer now, drawing her shoulders back. If making the decision to come back here was her first small step to becoming normal again and getting her life back, she had to not waver. It would be a show for now, of course, but she would learn in time. She hoped.

Her mouth remained open to say more but she could not formulate the words. It had never been this hard before, he was always able to read what she was thinking. The thought that she was consciously trying to lead him down another road made her suddenly alert.

"Everything's fine. I promise you. Being here," she took pause for a moment, grounding herself, "it's helped."

There were no questions. The silence was fine for now. John smiled at her with soft eyes, a smile she could tell he had been wanting to use for so long.

Before he led the way out, waiting patiently for her to follow whenever she wanted, his other words from hours before came back to her, as though she had only just heard them.

_You're safe now._

As her foot hovered over the threshold, not quite ready to take the step when she had expected she would be, Anna couldn't help but wonder, though she wanted to believe.

* * *

In the light of day, everything was different. It was never entirely avoidable – especially not when she had to venture to certain places, walk into certain shadows – but there were ways to cope. Working had the biggest effect, providing her with a sanctuary and shelter. It had always been her retreat when life had taken an unexpected turn. She asked for more tasks to take on around the house, offering to help others with their loads and feeling anxiety crawl over her when she was told to have a break. When her body was occupied, her mind was quieted from having to scream. The clock would tick by and it would never be long enough; the aim was to work her bones to the ground, until they could take no more and gave out, at least until the next day. The habit was soothing, the aches in her joints rewards. Not every part of her old life had been lost, and the fact that her work ethic was stronger than ever gave her consolation that she was still present, still of this earth.

Yet in all the hours that she worked up at the Abbey, she found herself wanting to be back at the cottage. To simply sit in peace resting her tired feet after the long day, or perhaps mending some of John's socks that she had meant to see to months ago. In the next moment she bristled as she was brought back to reality. It was not proving as easy to pick up those habits, though she was trying, just to prove to herself that she could. The thought of returning carried her through the day. There was no need to disguise or hide the way she was feeling there.

_I can be safe, truly._

She did still hide. Whether it was for John's sake or her own, she wasn't always sure. It had only been a little over a week since she had been back, and there was no need to rush. They had the rest of their lives. John put no pressure on her, was perfectly patient when she needed space to be on her own, which happened more frequently than it ever used to. She was quieter for longer and restless too, finding it hard to stay sitting for longer than a few minutes. Most nights she went up earlier, feeling guilty for leaving John to occupy the couch with his leg the way it was. She told him she would stay downstairs instead, but he would never let her. It was important that she got a good night's rest, he said. No matter how difficult she was being, he always understood. Sometimes she wished that he didn't, imagined that it might give her the jolt she needed out of her thoughts that were never still. Her skin didn't feel the right fit upon her body, and she was constantly frustrated at herself. John seemed to have shed the tension that had composed him for the past month while they had been apart. No matter how she was, he was simply happy that she was under the same roof as him.

When the darkness of night came, everything she had strived for seemed hopeless, disappeared before her unseeing gaze. The shadows didn't cloak her but instead consumed her. It became almost impossible to breathe as air rapidly escaped the room, her heart pounding in a sickening fashion against her chest, falling down past her feet. She dared not shut her eyes for the briefest moment, because she knew what she would be confronted with. She feared it so intensely with every fibre and sinew of her being. She had not remembered much, the numbness and the iron will she possessed blocking it from her mind. Now her senses were beginning to restart and the focus was becoming sharper. She raged against it with her whole body, kicking her legs and crying out hoarsely, much as she had done then. The silence hurt her ears, the sobs caught in her throat. The walls began to shrink, cornering her and closing her in, and for a few moments – though it seemed so long as to be the duration of years – there was no way to escape.

Having depleted her energy in the sudden frenzy, she laid barely breathing on the bed. It had been the worst waking nightmare she had encountered, and it had taken place within these four walls. Her safest place had been invaded, and at once everything seemed to shatter.

She pulled herself upwards, limbs still as heavy as lead, the pain in her stomach almost unbearable. Fighting the urge to retch, she placed one foot slowly in front of the other and pulled back the curtains to gaze out of the window. The moon was high tonight, bathing the landscape in a silvery glow. Outside everything seemed so peaceful, so unaware. Her throat was burning an intense fire, but she would do her utmost to ignore it. She promised herself that she wouldn't cry. Not here, not in their home. She couldn't offer much now, but she owed that much. Her tears would not cleanse but contaminate. Drops of poison flowing into a river, they would wash away everything they'd worked so hard to build, drown them both. She would hold them within herself; they could not cause much more damage to an already broken being. Yet little by little, day by day, what she was holding back would break him down too.

It wasn't too long before she had to lie down again, her head feeling light and her body feeling weak. The nausea had seen to it that she hadn't been able to eat that evening and now her mind had been utterly overwhelmed. Curling herself up tight and with the open curtains still streaming moonlight into the room, Anna lay, trying to remember how much she had forgotten herself of late. Sometimes it did feel as though she was outside, watching someone else live a life that she could only imagine was the hardest thing to bear, praying for them in their despair. It wasn't an unconscious decision she had made to keep herself distant and while she knew that John only wanted to help her, she thought that the best way to help him would be to keep herself isolated, to make sure these feelings didn't seep out and reach him. Being close by instinct, she grieved deeply for every second they spent apart, the division made by her own will.

Struck by sorrow, her hands fished beneath the pillow, grasping the garment weakly at first but then holding it tighter, her eyes roaming wildly over it before she clutched it to her chest. It was as close as she was able to get to him right now, and it brought back almost too many memories for her, especially here. She still required the tangible comfort of him, reminding her of the other period they had been separated for such a time, knowing that it was never possible for her to sever the ties completely. Her cheeks brushed against the fabric of her husband's pyjama top as she inhaled deeply, letting his scent overwhelm her, her arms unable to relinquish.

Anna wept without being aware at first, the knowledge only real when she felt the trail of tears streaming down her face, spilling onto the pillow and the pyjama top. She was unable to stop, her sobs sounding out and echoing in the room as they grew heavier. She had never expected that she would feel this distraught, not ever again, not in this life they had together. Was it because she had started to do what she swore she never would, unthinkingly – taking their happiness for granted? There had to be some reason for it, something she had or hadn't done. There was scarce space in her head to consider it, but it must have been true.

Her cries had travelled downstairs, and she didn't know how much time had gone by until he arrived in the room. She startled slightly at the bulk of his weight settling down gently on the edge of the bed, still trembling from the inside out at her actions. Like waves reeling over a wild sea, she began to calm the longer she felt his presence there. He hadn't run from her yet, and yet she still wanted to hide her face, feeling intense shame.

"I came up to say goodnight." His voice was so soft, reminding her of finer days and nights gone by. He always cared for her so much, considerate to her every need. "Is there anything that you want, a biscuit or some water?"

Anna's head barely made any movement as she shook it upon the pillow, her body apparently paralysed and worn out. After a few moments she realised that she had to say something in answer.

"No, thank you."

Silence reigned in the room, her weeping at the pitch of a whimper now, petering out slowly. It was so foreign for them to be like this, such a gulf between them. She had not the strength to reach out to him, waves knocking her down at every moment that she dared to try. She wished she could have said more, let him know what she had been through just now. Not before. She longed to be able to touch his arm or his face without being afraid that she would recall something and scream out, leaving him too scared to ever try again. He didn't touch her but his voice soothed her instead, until he said something that nearly broke her heart all over again.

"If this is too difficult for you, if it's too soon…" There was a waver in his tone, a small note of sorrow audible before he gathered himself, seeking to diminish it for her sake. "If you want to go back, if you feel that would be better, I would understand."

Somehow she found the strength to turn herself over on the bed, turning to face her husband, needing to see his face and break down one of the walls that was between them. He wore his anguish in his expression, eyes grey and heavy, worry lines set into his forehead. For such a fine figure of a man, he now resembled a shell, nothing but a ghost. The shock of it made her forget about her own drained complexion, contrasted with the raw red of her eyes. Maybe it would be for the best, if this is what she had done to him. Yet she suspected he would only deteriorate further if she were to go again, as unstable as her existence was.

She tried her utmost to get her voice past a whisper, to show him the honesty in what she said.

"No, I want to stay. I want to be here. I don't want to go. I can't…"

Tears threatened to overwhelm her anew and her ragged breath stopped her short. John began to hush her, showing her that it was okay, his hand placed in the vacant space between them, never asking for anything more. The fact was true, truer than anything. She wanted to be here. She needed to be here. Any more separation would destroy her, no question.

"It just needs time."  _I just need time._  "Grant me that, and I promise you…"

"You don't need to promise anything." A small smile softened his eyes, brought some of the light back. "Of course. Everything in the world."

She shifted on the pillow to become more comfortable, slowly stretched her hand out to rest a little way away from his, aligning on the covers. She looked down at them both, feeling a little assured, hoping it wouldn't be too long before they could entwine them again. Her other hand was still clutching onto the shirt, holding it to her, a sleeve tangled around her arm. She noticed John's gaze upon the garment, a little smile lifting his lips.

"I should give this back, you'll be needing it," she started, growing a little embarrassed for the way she was hoarding it.

"I'll be fine. Keep it." He whispered against the night, lifting himself from the bed.

Anna followed his movements as he went to the door, her eyelids losing the fight to stay open. She made out his shadow, staying for a few moments as the guardian of the room.

"Sleep well, my darling. I'll see you in the morning."

She mumbled a reply before she was lost again, all the pain ebbing away for a few more fitful hours. As she drifted deeper into sleep, she kept a thought clear in her mind amongst so much of its haze.

Even though he was here, she missed him.

* * *

The embers of the fire were glowing in the grate and Anna felt herself hypnotised by the way they danced, her cheeks flushed and warm, the ball of wool and blanket in her lap. She had found the concentration to resume the task of late, and the softness felt good beneath her hands. What had started out as a shawl was growing more expansive as she returned to it most evenings, and she decided that it would make a good blanket. She could give it to Lady Mary for Master George, or if she had no use for it, the child certainly not being short of possessions, then she was sure that the missionary could find the benefit. She tried not to think of all the ideas she had originally dreamt, feeling nothing but a sharp sense of relief that there had been no sign of a baby. How many women had not been as lucky as she had been, and yet she felt no better for thinking on that, considering that luck played no factor in everything she still experienced.

Rising up from his seat, John went over to the grate, picking up the iron at the side and gently encouraging a few more flames to spark up. Content with his efforts, Anna smiled at him as he turned back towards her, settling back down into the chair opposite. She found that she could smile more naturally at particular moments now, especially here on evenings such as the one that was currently wearing on to its end. They had begun, tentatively at first, to rediscover such evenings and though they might not have seemed particularly enthralling, to Anna they gave great comfort and considerable hope for the future. After having a little supper, John eating a larger portion than her but bearing no judgement for the fairly small amount of food that was on her plate, they would go into the sitting room and take up their respective places. John would read to himself and she would take up her knitting or some other mending from around the cottage. They talked at intervals about how things were with the family or their fellow servants, even about news or events that were happening in the village. When the conversation proved distracting enough, they were happy to embrace the comfortable silence, finding it quite different to the kind they had been confronted with recently and remembering it as previously familiar.

Anna was rather surprised but certainly pleased by how peaceful she felt on these evenings. It was in no small part thanks to John's deliberate attentions to her wellbeing. Nothing was rushed, the pace of their life being set to her standards. Gradually he was getting past his own hesitancy, doing little things around the house to reach out to her which she was appreciative of, never coming as a sign that he wished to hurry things along but instead just of a desire to show her pure comfort. In the light of it, her own confidence grew. She could spend much longer now being still, feeling no need to dart about. She was able to take hold of small moments in the day – a bird outside the window or a freshly washed nightgown – and find beauty and consolation. She could maintain his company for greater amounts of time, holding his gaze more assuredly. In bolder moments, she even had the courage to reach out and stroke his fingers with her own, a least for a few seconds before she pulled away. His hand was warm, softer than she had remembered. He never minded when she drew back very briefly afterwards. She knew she wasn't drawn fully out of herself but her words were less broken when she said them, her being less worn and wearied. With slow steps edging a little way ever forward, she was starting to feel at home again.

They were talking about Alfred and how plucky he was for continuing to pursue his dreams of leaving Downton when she felt strange suddenly. Perhaps it was because she was sitting a little too close to the fire that she felt too warm, but it wasn't the only symptom that she was encountering. Her limbs began to feel like they were being pricked by pins and an increasing dull ache was edging its way steadily across her temples. A wave of fear lurched within her stomach, and she stood rapidly, the blanket and bundle of wool falling to her feet.

She knew that John's eyes were upon her instantly, concern written upon his face, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him at that moment while she was in the thick of it. Instead, she told him that she wouldn't be long, picking up the wool and placing it on the little table before going into the back, heading to open the door that led out into the yard.

Outside, she gulped in lungfuls of air, focused on the feeling of stone beneath her soles, solid and uncompromising. She waited for the crippling pain in her head to subside, prayed for the suffocating feeling to fade soon enough. Taking in slow and deep breaths, she reminded herself of where she was.  _Here, not there. Now, not then._  The pain started to slide, surfacing elsewhere, and she steadied herself with her hands against the wall, looking up to the sky as it begun to turn to dusk. Two birds flew overhead, one trailing behind the other.

She went back inside – it hadn't taken too long for this bout to disperse - taking in a couple more long breaths before returning to the sitting room. John remained in his chair, pose seemingly frozen, his eyes still wide with wondering. Anna settled herself again and managed to smile towards him, telling him and herself too that everything was alright. Sinking down into the chair, she felt a greater calm cross her the longer she kept her gaze locked with his.

Minutes faded, they resumed their previous quiet. There were other echoes in Anna's mind that were growing louder. She found herself glancing to the clock on the hearth, watching the tick of the hands carefully.

She let out a sigh before speaking, causing John to lift his head from the pages he was studying.

"I should have stayed." Her cheeks were flaming hot with shame, illuminated by the kindling flames. "It wasn't that bad of a headache, I could have put up with it."

God knows she had replayed the thought in her mind over a million times.  _If only I would have stayed. If only I would have waited for the concert to be over._ She could have returned downstairs with John, holding his hand and only letting go when he went to search for a powder for her, sitting down in the same room. Would there have been another moment when she was alone, would it have happened regardless?

He was shaking his head, agony turning his green irises several shades darker.

"You had every right." His hand wavered in the air, splaying flat, the action an attempt to calm his tumultuous emotions. "I should have gone with you, saw that you were alright." His gaze lifted upwards, trying to stop the tears that were creeping into his voice. "I curse myself every second of the day that I did not follow you the moment that you left."

Anna tipped her chin down, feeling his guilt pile upon hers. It was thankful she spoke through pursed lips, otherwise he would have heard her say  _"Maybe I shouldn't have…"._  Somehow, she didn't know how, she forgot that he did not know. They had been so used in their newly found freedom to sharing every small as well as every significant aspect of their lives. Now the door had slammed firmly shut again. The risks were far too high. It would drive him mad, and leave her truly alone in the world, for certain.

She only knew that she had been utterly foolish. Her life had been far from the easiest, but she had been charmed in the connections she had forged with people. In every way she had been cared for exceptionally well, taken under wing and nurtured as a young girl becoming a woman. When she had fallen in love, perhaps later in life than others, she had chosen the most gentle and honourable man that there was living. She had been naïve to think everyone she encountered would be so kind. How could her judgement have been so poor?

_If only I hadn't chosen that moment to go._

_If only_  solved nothing.

"Neither of us could know." She stated it dully, the strange matter of fact that it was. "I'm being silly." She looked up again, finding his eyes and the regret starting to fade. "I can't do anything to go back."

The simple and impossible fact reverberated around them both.

"You're not being silly," he replied. In that moment and so many before, Anna knew that if he could have found a way, he would have done anything to change the course of time. "Just please know, that you are a remarkable person and you are not in any way to blame. Ever."

She remembered a night a couple of weeks ago when she had become hysterical for apparently no reason, crying herself into a fit. It hurt him enough to see her in such a state, but she couldn't stop the question from escaping her.

" _How can you still love me?" she sobbed, tears blurring the vision of him before her. It made him seem like he was almost kneeling in front of her. She was not worthy of him, not good enough for him now._

_She heard his voice, as sure as it had ever been._

" _How can I not love you?" He held his hands out, not expecting her to take them but smiling when she did. "You are my wife, you are my life, and I will love you until the day I die. Nothing will ever change that. Ever."_

Anna nodded her head, returning gradually to her peace, trying hard not to blame herself for disturbing it. In that moment and others, she remembered amongst all the shadows and the demons that were telling her otherwise. He was so good to her, and he was helping her to realise again that she was good too. Good enough. More than that.

As the night came, kinder in its guises now, she promised herself that she would remember that above all else. As she looked at her husband sitting opposite her, she knew that he would always help her to remember.

* * *

The slivers of early light always emerged in the same spot, every morning. They had a certain quality, one that it was hard to avoid completely. She had come out of the bathroom a minute or so earlier than the day before, conscious that she needed to rid herself of the compulsion to bathe until her skin was wrinkled and peeling from her. It was getting better. Sliding up the sleeves of her robe, she noticed that her forearms were only slightly burnished pink, a significant improvement from when they glowed an angry red. A few weeks ago she would check when she was at the house, cautiously roll back the sleeves of her uniform in a quiet corner and wince when she saw the scalded patches. With a new kind of shame, she pushed down the pride she also felt to see the marks the boiling water had left.

She stood for a few moments, holding her breath to prepare herself, before the robe was gone in a swift, deliberate motion. Her shoulders instinctively hunched, not just at the sudden coolness of the air upon her. The door was firmly shut, the curtains tightly drawn. Save for those inescapable slivers of sunlight, landing squarely upon her collarbones which jutted out more prominently now. She fought the urge to scoop the garment from the floor – so flimsy, an impossible kind of armour – and to keep her eyes pinned down. Quickly, just as quickly as she had discarded the item, she raised her head. God only knows what she had expected to see, afraid for the briefest and most implausible of seconds. Her body, her own home. And it was  _hers._ Examining the reflection carefully, she took the time to notice things she hadn't known were there as well as those she had always been aware of. She willed herself to stop trembling when she pressed her palms against flesh, never taking her eyes from the mirror, vision giving her a sense of control. She was determined to get through the agony of it, and in some aspects she succeeded.

When she padded downstairs, John was already there, pottering around in and out of the sitting room and hall. She knew that he was merely pretending to be distracted by some task, and she smiled that he would afford her that. He met her eyes with a level of self-consciousness, returning her own glance with the similar bashfulness that she betrayed but adding a deal of warmth. He picked up his cane from where it rested against the wall at the same moment as she stepped down from the last stair, and once again they headed out.

With each walk to the house, she grew stronger in herself and more confident. Little sparks of her old self were returning, glimpsed briefly in the shine of her eyes. Her thoughts were becoming bolder, even if it took her actions a bit longer to catch up. She started to emerge from her cocoon, felt brave enough to think about unfurling her wings. Sitting at the table that day, she found that she didn't think about it too much. It was natural to ask her husband out on a date. Indeed, he was the one who appeared more cautious as he listened to her suggestion, but the soft smile that graced his face was enough to reassure her. It was a kind that she hadn't seen in a while from him, and she could not help but feel a flurry of excitement inside each time she thought of it. Another step closer, a tighter hold, a light that grew larger in the distance.

Anna sat in relative darkness in the sitting room, hands folded in her lap. She was in her uniform again, and it was as though everything about the evening had disappeared, including any ounce of courage that she had possessed. Had it ever occurred? It was like an illusion in her mind, not real enough to grasp. Someone else had taken her place. Once more she felt incredibly small. Back to the start, though she supposed she had never really begun.

It had been her own fault. She had rushed it all along, tried to get ahead of herself. She had known before they had stepped inside that it had all been a mistake, tension making her bunch up and feel more aware of everything. It had been so humiliating, the way they had to be pardoned by her Ladyship. The sneering face of the maître-d' burned into her, made her recall things that she had wanted to keep buried. Throughout she had kept repeating the words she uttered to herself:  _I am not a victim_.  _I won't become one, not now._  Yet she could not bargain on the power of her thoughts, overwhelming as they were. Swarming her in this very moment. John had seemed different. Affronted by their treatment, but not just that. If she had a point to prove by being there, it was as though he had several running all at once. He poured wine into her glass, smiled towards her, and she wanted to run as far away as possible. The fear that she would bring the table and its contents crashing to the ground in her fever, causing the whole establishment to regard only her, was the only thing that kept her sitting.

How could she have possibly thought that it would be normal, or even enjoyable? She had said it herself; everything they had was shadowed, and the shadows would not lift. What remained in front of them loomed even larger than what was behind, and seemed harder to be traversed.

She went from feeling sorrow and pity to inching hot with anger in the blink of an eye, less than a beat of the heart. The swing of her mood usually left her exhausted, but now she felt alive, perhaps truly for the first time since. How dare it happen like this, how dare it poison, how dare it make a fool of them both. Her punishment came now, slow and misleading in its visage. She had not wanted to feel like this, but she had no choice. No control. It had bubbled within her for too long, content to be restrained. Her hands twisted, pulled at her skirt; her expression was tightly composed, a faint twitch in her left eyebrow unable to come to a halt the only movable aspect.

Try as he might to silence it, the gentle tap upon the floor bounced up to the walls. John's eyes were upon her as he blindly rested his cane near to the fireplace. They dropped as he moved tentatively closer to the couch, his broad frame vastly reduced, cowering in the dim light. He made a small sigh, hesitating for a moment before he slowly sat down, inches apart from her. Anna could see from the corner of her eye that his hand was shaking as it was planted upon his good knee. He attempted to ball it up, but his fingers would not cooperate. He looked at her again, at a loss at what to say or do. She had never been angry with him, not in this way. It was utterly unexplainable, and yet the understanding of it was too keen and made her heart break further.

He made some small talk that she half heard and gave no response to, remaining staring ahead. John stood up again, helpless and quite confused. In the worst of it at least she would look at him, even if it was with a disdain he hadn't been able to fathom, foolishly at the time. She sat, hands clasped together, and all at once he was left adrift and knew too well of what was rapidly rising to the surface. He made no attempt to shield himself from it, and Anna didn't know if that was worse.

"What was it all for?"

Her voice came out smaller than she had imagined it would, with more emotion than she had intended. At once she recalled vividly the long nights that she had done her best to remain hopeful, not to give in to the real prospect that their life might be over. The days that she had worn herself out, travelling back and forth, continuing to work after she had done her duty. All for him, to be able to have him with her again, forever. All for them.

The blankness began to fade from John's face, the recognition he was coming to almost too painful to bear. His expression started to crumple as he observed the tremble of her lower lip, feeling utter shame flood through him.

"If you meant what you said this evening, if you truly meant it, then it was all for nothing."

Her words burned through them both, Anna lifting her head and taking no satisfaction from the way John retracted, closing his eyes and grimacing. She regretted what she had said as soon as she said it. Of course it had not been for nothing. It had been for everything. For where they both were now. The thought that it would be wrenched from her – could still prove to be the case – filled her mind, set her aflame. He looked utterly wretched, but she needed to know. That what he said hadn't been true, couldn't possibly be.

"Did you mean it?"

He didn't say anything, wouldn't look at her. The sensation flared up wildly, but she fought to remain calm.

"John, answer me." She had not lost her insistence. "Did you mean it? Would you do it?"

His eyes were still averted from hers, and her blood ran cold as his lips parted.

"Wanting to do something and doing it are two very different things."

She stared hard at her husband where he stood, head bowed, though she wasn't certain it was remorse he was showing. She wouldn't believe it. After so many battles, he would never throw away the life they had. Weeks ago he reaffirmed the vow he had made years before. That he would do anything for her, and she had never doubted it _._  She felt sick, her stomach turning at the thought. She could see her world turning to stone, crumbling before her.

He must have heard her silent plea to him, his gaze meeting hers at last. Those eyes, always so full of love and concern when they were turned upon her. Those emotions remained, mixed with a fierce almost-adolescent will, and a deep regret for it. He breathed out, and the whole world balanced on a pin.

"I don't honestly know, is the truth."

The cry caught tight in her throat before she could let it out. He was being honest. He was an awful liar, at least to her. The lengths she had gone to suddenly seemed pointless, her greatest fear stepping uncloaked from the shadows. She would die before they'd take him from her again. A horrible thought crossed her mind for the briefest time; that she wished she had.

"We don't know who it was. We never will." She started to chatter madly, making excuses to fill the silence, trying to justify it.  _Would he kill an innocent man at random, just for some form of release?_ She wouldn't let herself think like that, not about him.

"I know that," he said lowly, barely able to contain his anger at the fact. It disappeared from him when he looked at her again. "Even then, it wouldn't be enough. When I think of what you were put through…"

He stopped, holding a hand over his jaw. Anna swayed a little where she was now standing. The last thing she wanted was for it to be everything between them, and she knew it wasn't, but there was no place it hadn't invaded.

John's eyes were hidden from her as he closed them momentarily, inhaling and exhaling steadily.

"Nothing would be enough. It would do far more harm than good, I know that. But it doesn't mean that, in the middle of the night, I don't think about it for a few moments."

She looked at him with eyes that were rapidly filling. He was being honest. Wasn't that what she wanted, what she needed? John winced as she swept by him, exiting into the kitchen for a few moments, him watching her as she went.

From nowhere, her mind presented her with pictures. The days and the weeks after he had been released, those wonderful times. The happiest of her life. When all that had seemed lost had returned once more, more perfect than she ever could have imagined. She heard their laughter, remembered for a few moments the joy that had been unburdened. They would get those times back, a voice from somewhere told her. Just not in nights like this, where they were trying too hard to replace what couldn't be replaced.

He was sitting down when she returned, the pained look on his face telling her that his knee mustn't have been able to stand the weight. It seemed easier for her to think that was the reason for his anguish. She walked towards him, stopping a few inches away from the couch, her head bent and hands clasped. She desperately wanted to be able to take his face into her palms, to soothe him and place kisses upon his head as she held it close to her. Too many other emotions were swirling in her head, making her feel like she was on the edge of falling from some precipice. If she did not let them out now, she risked disappearing forever.

"You took it away from me," she uttered, promising herself she wouldn't break. The statement caused him to lift his eyes to hers immediately. "You didn't let me speak for myself, wait until I was ready to."

It had felt like such a betrayal, at a time when her trust had already been shattered. From the two people she trusted above everyone else. They wouldn't let her wait. Did they possibly believe she wanted to stay silent forever, keep such a terrible secret? Yet it seemed like the only way she could have kept some semblance of sanity. She felt wrong for holding onto a grudge, especially when she knew of all the hurt that had been caused. And yet it mattered. Something else had been taken out of her hands, and she didn't know what she had left to keep for herself.

She still had him.

John's eyes searched her own, the remembered agony etched again on his face as awful as it had been when he had said those two words.  _I know_.

"I'm sorry, my darling. I truly am. I didn't want it to happen that way." She believed him, the look deep in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice as he spoke. In all their time together, she didn't think he had been so open. Still, the wound hadn't closed for her. "I wanted you to come to me like nothing else. I begged it of you. I thought something had gone wrong, irreparably, and I became a desperate man. I suppose I lost my reasoning. Without you, I am lost."

She turned her head away for a moment, her fingers toying with the band on her finger, thinking of how stranded she felt. How alone. How she had resigned herself to it, for the rest of time.

"I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't look at me, wouldn't talk to me, and every second ripped my soul. I know I can hide myself and I try hard not to now, but ever since I've known you, you have never hidden from me. I knew it was for a reason." He rose from his seat, the action taking some effort as he sighed heavily. "If I had known…I should have known. I should have known you better, my love. And I never would have done it. But my heart couldn't bear to see you suffering that way. And when I could do nothing…"

She thought of being in the courtroom, the last time she had felt so helpless. She would have bore any pain for him to be saved, she swore it to herself in those awful moments before the sentence came. She would sacrifice everything she had. She had always been willing to do so.

John's eyes remained upon her, seeking some kind of forgiveness. Anna gave a small nod of her head, not knowing that it made anything better really. He returned the gesture, and there was a little quiet between them, as it all sunk in.

"Tell me, Anna." The sound of his voice sent shivers running on the back of her neck. "Would you have come to me, in time?"

He wanted her to be honest. He needed her to be honest. She was only ever doing it to protect him, couldn't he see that? Save him from the shame that would befall him if anybody ever knew.

Both the hesitation and the sharpness of her reply did her words a disservice.

"Of course I would have."

He lowered his head, brought his hand up to his mouth. Anna's eyes watched him helplessly as he wandered in aimless circles upon the floor, wishing she had never said anything. She did not know how much strength she had left to see this through, and this night had been so strange. Demons exposed to the air. Half of her wanted to desperately retreat upstairs, but she wouldn't leave him like this, not when she had been the one to open it up. Who knows what state he would work himself into.

He stopped still again, a thousand words hung in the air before he moved to speak some. Anna felt frozen in place. It couldn't always be like this.

"I told Mrs Hughes that day…" he paused, closing his eyes tightly shut before he continued. "I told her that if she didn't tell me about what happened, that I would leave." His voice was ragged, catching in his throat. "If that's what you wanted, I would have gone."

The revelation was a dagger in her chest, her face draining white. She didn't know why she should have been so shocked, when she was doing the very same thing. She pushed him away to the extent that he had no choice in the matter. But the fact that he had kept it from her, would have left without a word or her knowing why, came as another betrayal, one that cut deeper than any other.

His confession was a catalyst. The outlet that she had been seeking unknown for a long time. Spurred on by unbearable pain, she flew forward, a whirlwind within the walls. As she pummelled her small fists against the solidity of his chest, feeling herself ricochet, she began to wail, her voice snatched from her in gasps.

"How dare you! After everything…how dare you, how dare you…"

Her arms flailed out, aiming further blows at him; her expression indignant as he refused to do anything to stop her. As her energy became less, her screams petered out and she began to cry instead, wrenching sobs that came from her gut. John stood rigid all the while, his arms straight at his sides. His lips tightly pursed to stop his own tears from emerging. Anna held herself back for a few moments, her head in her hands muffling her sorrow. Through blurred eyes she looked up at him, saw how he was suffering the same. She took a few tentative steps forward, and then didn't stop herself from slumping forward, her head hitting his chest. John let her rest and adjust for long moments, before he slowly raised his arms up, his hands very softly bracing her shaking shoulders. The longer he held her, the less he held back too, and the only sound that could be heard in the room was both of their sobs sounding out together.

Anna felt her breath shudder against John's torso, the wetness of her tears pressing from where they had fallen on his jacket back to her cheek. His own tears had soaked into her hair. There was silence as she registered his arms circled around her, unafraid. Though there was much work to do, she felt a weight ease from her aching shoulders. She felt almost weightless. Her hands clung onto his back, fistfuls of his jacket in her palms. While one of his hands soothed slowly down her back, she raised her head to look at him. Seeing the tears that still stained her face, John brought his other hand up, his thumb soft in its strokes as he very gently wiped them away.

"I didn't mean it, what I said," she stuttered, breath hitching. "I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head as he brought hers back to his chest, cradling her.

"Please, don't ever be sorry, my love." She felt him press a light kiss to her crown and closed her eyes, not quite able to bring her hands up to rest on his chest. His voice was slightly covered by her hair. "It needed to be said."

"I made you think," her voice began to falter, and she leaned on him a little more, "that I didn't love you anymore."

That caused her to let out another sob, and he hugged her, whispering faint words of comfort. She couldn't stand the pain that she must have put him through, his belief that everything that always existed had so quickly disappeared, without any reason.

"I never stopped, I would never." She had to let him know, for certain. "I love you so much."

Both of his hands were on her face, gently tipping her head so that he could meet her eyes.

"And I love you," he replied, smiling through tears that remained. "However, whatever, whenever."

Anna's eyes fluttered shut, nodding as she rested back against him, needing to feel him close. She lamented that all this made her so scared, so sure that he would start to doubt. In this moment she was no longer afraid out of her wits, but neither was she completely reassured.

"Promise me." She whimpered, doing her utmost to raise her voice. "Say that you won't leave me. Not ever." Without realising it, her palms had landed firm against him. His warmth, so much missed, made its way to her. "I couldn't bear it."

He didn't hesitate for a second, much to Anna's relief.

"I promise, my darling. I am not going anywhere."

His breath was warm and comforting against her hair and then fluttering against her cheek. His hands placed themselves on her shoulders, held her up straight.

"I could never leave you, whatever came." His voice was steady as steel, held a deeper level of emotion. "I would never do anything that would make me leave you."

His eyes locked with hers, she knew that his promise was true. She would have fallen to the floor with relief if he hadn't had his arms around her. If only she had known this sooner.

She couldn't bear to be apart from him that night. She wasn't quite ready to let him lie next to her, knowing that she needed to feel more stable before that could happen, so instead he occupied the chair next to the bed that they had bought just a few months ago. Though his presence in the room gave her peace, she found herself lying awake most of the night, her mind racing. She wondered whether John would get much sleep either or whether he was doing the very same, conscious not to let her know. The evening had been far from perfect, but the night had brought a change and for that she was grateful. It was a comfort for her to hear the words from him, for her keenest fear to be dispelled. Somewhere in the back of her mind it still lingered. He had every right to leave her, if he ever woke up one day and changed his mind. Any other man would not have hesitated. If people ever found out – and she prayed to God that they didn't – they certainly would not blame him.

But he was not any man. He was a remarkable man, he was John Bates. He was  _her_  John Bates still, and she thanked God for it and for him every second of the day and for every long hour of the night. She moved her head on the pillow, took in the sight of him and his limbs stretched out in front of him in the tiny chair. His hands clasped upon his abdomen, chin tipped down to his chest as he slept lightly. Anna was filled with a sudden burst of love regarding her husband, suddenly yearning to be closer to him. Instead she continued to watch him, growing more thankful than ever before that he was here with her and not anywhere else.

* * *

Anna regarded herself closely in the mirror, turning her face more fully into the light. The bruises and cuts had faded to nothing now, but she still had the dark circles resting underneath her eyes, which only seemed to grow deeper every day. Her cheeks had yet to fill out completely, and her complexion, which had always been fair, was an almost ghostly pallor. She sighed, knowing that visible changes would only come with time, but still feeling appalled with the image of herself that greeted her.

John was not in the hallway as she had expected, the time being very close to that when they needed to leave to be able to get to the Abbey. She felt a vague sense of panic, it dropping to her heels when she padded in to find him in the sitting room, stretching to arrange the frill of the curtains.  _Silly beggar_ , she thought fondly,  _he'll do himself no favours_. He turned seconds after her arrival, his eyes upon her for longer than she expected. She felt herself shrink a little underneath his gaze, she didn't feel particularly worthy of it that morning.

"May I say something to you?" he said after a few moments, hands toying with one another before falling to his sides.

"Of course you may," Anna answered, more than a touch bemusedly.

His lips curved upwards on the permission she had given, his eyes kind and teeming with adoration.

"You look beautiful."

Her breath caught, fighting the urge to deny him. The smile on his face grew, and gradually, she let her own come to light.

_She had let him near her, let him hold her, though she was sure that he could feel her trembling. She willed herself to stop, but everything in her body was disconnected. She wanted to inch away at least until it ceased, to make sure that he knew it had nothing to do with him. She was so far out of control. It was the first time he had held her again, here. She felt awkward about it. She didn't want to disappoint him._

_His hands moved from her back, came to cup her face tenderly. She was stuck still, too rigid to be able to follow the path, eyes pinned to his chin rather than looking up into his own. She concentrated hard on knowing his touch._

" _You are beautiful, Anna," he breathed, "you are so very beautiful."_

_She couldn't stop herself from shaking her head as it was in his palms. She heard a whimper come from the back of his throat._

" _You are, you are."_

_She wanted to believe his words, but she couldn't. He'd told her so many times before, but that was different. That was before. She was no longer. She couldn't possibly be._

Anna moved forward into the room, met by her husband as he started to come forward. Placing her hands lightly on his forearms, she moved them apart, let herself fold against him. She felt John's smile against her neatly styled hair and his hands as he held her delicately.

"You are beautiful," he told her, his hands resting just so that he wouldn't crumple her pressed uniform.

This time, she had started to believe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the 'canon compliant' tag I should point out that this part diverts from canon slightly, with some reworkings. Elements of 4.7 remain but 4.8 is pretty much forgotten about. (basically it's what I think should have been canon compliant)

It was strange how things that had been learnt over years could shift and alter in the course of but weeks. Not even with the turn of the tide or the change of one season to the next, but much quicker than that. And yet the transformation was keenly felt, did not go unrecognised.

Each day, Anna would find herself up before the dawn, sitting quietly by the window, watching patiently for the sun to begin its rise over the horizon. Of course early starts had long been a necessity but certainly not a choice, Anna preferring to bury her head beneath the pillow and shut her eyes tight, pretending that the dark behind her eyes was the cover of night. Yet even when she was allowed the luxury she found she couldn't take advantage of a lie-in now. She didn't lament the change in her routine, turned what may have been considered a negative into something positive instead. It was certainly good that she wanted to savour the earlier moments of the day, instead of wishing them away fiercely as she had done not too long ago. Some mornings she would watch the sky change its colour from above, the window from the bedroom offering quite a wonderful view. Everything from the buds upon the trees to the birds nestling there could be seen restarting into life, if you looked closely enough. It gave her a peaceful feeling, and made her feel deeply humble. Other mornings she would pad downstairs, careful not to make much noise, and take up her seat there. Instead of being intrusive, the quiet that such an early hour provided was serene in its quality, interrupted every now and then by the chirp of birdsong, eternal and hopeful.

Each day, she took another step forward. Some days it was more than just one, and even though they were still relatively small, she was proud of herself for persevering. She was proud of herself for holding her head up that bit higher, pushing on, and not giving in even when it seemed such a tempting option. Since that night a few weeks ago, key in her transformation, she considered herself to be different, largely in a good way. She was certainly less hesitant in what she said, and she was working up to replicating that attitude in her actions, steadily. She had cried some more. In some moments, she had even laughed. Most importantly, she no longer saw the future as a desolate place that she could never truly belong in but instead believed that it held a great deal of hope, as it had always done. Just like the sun held up in the sky, some days that hope appeared to shine brighter than others.

There were days when she had no choice but to take a few steps back. Like the flame of a candle, optimism burned out and it became too much to pretend. She felt frustration, was sometimes wild with it, that she could not keep up the pace. She felt helpless, irrational, governed not by her will but by some other force that was intent on keeping her down, bringing her mind back to those terrible places. On those days she took deep breaths in and out. She placed her hands beneath her, she went outside to feel the sun – or the rain – on her face, she smelt the air and the earth. She reminded herself that she was only human, and that it was alright to feel bad as well as good. It was perfectly understandable.

She measured her progress in days, with the rising and setting of the sun, and it seemed the best way to do it. It was the only way to do it.

John was her constant. She looked back, and could not fathom how she had planned to ever stumble through life without him. It was quite plain and simple; she could not survive without him. He doubted his abilities often enough, worried that he wasn't doing enough to help her along, or conversely that he was doing too much without even being aware. Of course, they were all unfounded. He helped her much more than he knew, not always by words, not always by actions, but by just being a part of her life, the way she had remembered it. They would never be able to sever their ties from one another, bound by name, bound by heart. The little things he did for her each day, like polishing her shoes or leaving out her breakfast bowl with a spoon by its side, showed how much he cared. They never had been before, but now Anna realised more than ever that gestures did not have to be grand to be considered acts of love. He never overcompensated. He would sit with her, sometimes by her side. In the times when she had to be alone he departed without being asked, and always returned when she needed to see his face again. Their relationship had been built on respect, and now it came into play more than ever. With his unwavering support she felt herself gathering, reclaiming their life together. With every little look and smile, she remembered something that she believed she had forgotten forever.

_I will find a way back_ , she had told herself months ago in those first faltering days. It was the thread that she had clung onto desperately, when everything else was falling. Now, as with her routines, that too had altered.

_We will find a way back_.

A couple of weeks previous, she was informed along with the rest of the house that Lord Gillingham would be returning to Downton soon. Anna did all she could not to fly into a blind panic at the news. Her worry kept her up at night, left her pacing the floor when John believed she was fast asleep. Just when things were getting on some kind of even keel, the recent past refused to stop haunting her. She recalled trembling with fear, barely holding herself together when they all stood in line outside the entrance of the Abbey. Lord Gillingham emerged with a tip of his hat and smile towards Lady Mary, and Anna released her tightly held breath when she saw that he was accompanied by a different valet. She briefly wondered whether she was dreaming. Later as she dressed her for dinner, Lady Mary informed her that there had been some kind of disagreement between Lord Gillingham and his previous valet, and he had been dismissed shortly after their last stay. He had never liked the man, apparently, and got on much better with his new servant. She asked what had happened to the old valet, did they know where he was now. Lady Mary was rather puzzled by the interest, but recalled Lord Gillingham saying something about him going to another country, somewhere on the Asian continent she believed. Either way, Lord Gillingham did not expect that he would be back in England any time soon, if at all again. He was the kind who liked adventure too much to settle for another job much the same in the next county along. The conversation moved forward, and Anna finally felt herself properly able to concentrate on putting up Lady Mary's hair without her hands fumbling and her heart pounding with fear.

For a few days, she felt deep resentment. To think that if Lord Gillingham had acted sooner, paid closer attention to his instincts, it all could have been avoided. She embraced the feeling, and then let it fade quickly. What good did it do to think back, with only thought to change what had already gone? It would only set her back much further, lead her down a path that there was no escape from. She wanted to move past it as best she could and go forward, and that is what she would do. Which meant that she had to do something else too.

Safe in the knowledge that her assailant was on the other side of the world, Anna told John the last secret that was between them. Despite her initial regret that she had not been truthful from the start, she could not deny that she felt better for it. Even with the appearance of the sunnier days, a dark cloud had been hanging over their heads for too long. He said that he had had an idea, and she felt rather foolish for thinking she could deceive him so easily. He reassured her quickly, told her once and over again when she sorely needed to know it how blameless she was. With her permission he took her into his arms, soothed away her returning sorrow, told her repeatedly how brave she was. A lady with the heart of a lion. He hushed her when she began to cry, with relief more than anything else. It wasn't entirely over with and forgotten. Anna noticed on some evenings that John would be distracted, brooding between the pages of his book rather than reading them. A soft word or two from her would be enough to snap him out of it. She knew that he struggled and she wished that he would tell her what was on his mind but he bore his emotion as stoically as ever, pushing down his own feelings for the sake of hers.

While they pieced their life back together one aspect remained hanging in the air, due to both of their deliberations. The question of intimacy was one that required careful thinking, and actions that would have been second-nature months ago were now considered to the very last detail, regardless of whether they were carried out. Anna had always loved holding John's hand, and she was glad of the comfort and happiness it brought her still, now she was able to again. Touches were easier now and came gradually, usually on arms or shoulders and always when they were covered. The only other place they came into contact with skin was with hands on one another's face. Anna enjoyed the gentle way John would caress her cheek when she required a certain level of reassurance, knowing when she needed to pull away, partly regretfully. There had been an unfortunate moment when she had got too lost in his eyes and he had got too preoccupied with her small but bright smile. He knew when he had angled his head closer that it was a misstep, and shame consumed them both when she had pulled sharply away from him and out of his touch. Something they never used to think about now loomed so large. Anna felt guilt that she was not able to give in, her eyes clouding. Yet there had been no hurt in John's eyes as he returned her gaze, only understanding, as well as regret for his actions. He had nothing to be sorry for, and as she slowly smiled to encourage him that nothing was wrong, Anna resolved that she would not be shaken. It was important not to retreat, but instead to readjust.

They found new, different ways to be close with one another in the moments they had together. A detour to take a longer walk home from the Abbey, an hour or so spent in the garden as the weather got warmer. One evening when she came downstairs from getting changed out of her uniform, she was pleasantly surprised to see a plain white cloth laid over the table, two small candles sat in the middle and John standing by the chair at her side. The sight made her laugh lightly, and she had to admit that she felt much better about enjoying a dinner in the comfort of their own home, even if it was not quite as fancy. They spent the evenings talking, and mostly he would come up to sit with her until she retired to sleep, save for the really bad nights, which were getting fewer.

Some mornings, she heard him shuffling into the sitting room from the kitchen, and she smiled when he took his place beside her at the window, ready to trace the rise of the sun in the sky. Anna noticed that those mornings always seemed to be the ones where the sky was clearer, the colours even more beautiful as the day began to unfold. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but she liked to think not.

Today was one of those mornings.

This morning he had brought her tea, and Anna nodded her thanks as she took the cup from his hand, letting it settle against her lap. He sat down next to her and together, largely in silence, they watched the world slowly spring to life.

With her eyes focused on the horizon and the warm glow of the sun, she curled her fingers into his. Eventually she let her head come to rest by his shoulder. Anna felt his surprise in the way he held himself momentarily, and then relished how he relaxed, gradually moulding with her, his gaze focused on the same almost miraculous sight.

_Day by day._ Some days were very good indeed.

* * *

Though Mrs Hughes did her best to arrange the schedule so that their half-days would coincide, and most especially of late, there were occasions when it was simply not practical. With his Lordship needing to travel to York on business, Anna was left alone and unoccupied that afternoon. She wondered whether she should sacrifice her free time, stay up at the house and find something to do, but soon decided it was quite silly to waste an afternoon that only came along once every fortnight. She always graciously savoured the time she had to herself, and she resolved that would not change.

The summer's day was fine, and she took advantage of the weather by taking a short trip into the village. It was not the first time she had been up there by herself since but she consciously decided to spend a little longer walking about. She covered her head with her widest brimmed hat and every now and then would stop still, eyes darting in every direction around her. Of course she was entirely safe, but it didn't do any harm to be sure. She ran some errands, popped into the bakery to buy John's favourite pie as well as a couple of cream cakes as a small treat.

She got back to the cottage with plenty of time to spare and was quite horrified to discover the amount of dust that the sunlight streaming in made visible on the surfaces, a vast amount of clutter collecting in the corners of the sitting room. Keeping the place tidy and up to her usual standards had not been her priority, and though John tried his best he worked so hard up at the house too. Rolling up her sleeves and fetching her apron, she decided that enough was enough. She set about giving the rooms a good clean, humming to herself as she went. She was reminded of her days as a housemaid while she worked methodically, the sheer physical effort proving satisfying.

Things were not quite so bad upstairs, so when the cleaning came to an end she endeavoured to make a start on sorting through the drawers and wardrobe, another task that had been put off for too long. Opening the doors she began to sort the contents into neat piles, not realising just how much they had accumulated, although Lady Mary and Lord Grantham had been quite kind with their cast-offs. There were already a fair few items that could be donated to charity, and a couple that just needed a little mending. Anna continued with gusto, placing the empty hangers on the rack and delving further. It was when her hand landed upon the delicate blouse near the back of the wardrobe that she froze, waves of memory arresting her and having quite a peculiar effect – not one that she had ever expected to experience while confronted with the items she was now gazing at.

Walking as if in a trance, she carried the white blouse and striking blue skirt across both her arms, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the bed. Lowering herself, she could not stop looking. Memories continued to flood back into her mind and they seemed to crowd the room. A strange ache hit her squarely in the chest. She had been too consumed to realise up until now, had hardly even considered that time in her life, as significant as it was. Even with the senses of sight and touch to aid her, she had trouble remembering precisely. So much had been lost and overshadowed in her mind, and this apparently most of all. There was no doubt that it was cruel but it seemed right. She mourned it deeply, more than she had the loss of anything else.

Through tears she raised her head to look around the room, illuminated by sunlight that had now travelled to the front of the house. She had not thought while she had been working, but the feeling struck her clearly now; that she was not deserving of any of the possessions that were here, and most of all what they added up to. It pained her to even look, being taunted by every place that her eyes fell upon.

She was unable to move, and she was still there, sobbing softly when John came home. It was still early, a couple of hours before they needed to be back at the house before dinner. He must have made some excuse to his Lordship, or otherwise the business had not taken as long as expected. Anna swiped at her eyes as she heard his footsteps climbing the stairs, preparing to ask him questions about his day. She felt dreadfully selfish as they all disappeared when he filled the doorway, her own worries consuming her once more. She did not stop a few more tears from rolling down her cheeks, and John came over to her immediately, still in his overcoat. He followed her gaze downward, watching her stroking the blouse in her lap over and over absentmindedly, covering her hand with his and softly stilling her movements. Recognition filled his eyes, a small and fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't seem to realise.

"I'm not the woman you married," she made her ever-charging thoughts clear to him. John stayed looking at her with eyes that were far too kind and forgiving. "I can't give the same things to you that I did then."

Perhaps she meant other things too, but there was little doubt to what she was referring, not too plainly. She briefly thought about the night that had followed that day, completely unexpected but made all the sweeter for that.

John took up her hand, letting the pad of his thumb rub tenderly against the curve of her palm. As she gazed into his eyes the thought crossed her mind that she would do anything, even let him seek his desires elsewhere if it meant he would not forsake her completely.

"Let me ask you something," he said, the smile not having left his eyes, "for how long and how much did I love you before that happened between us?"

A faint blush crossed her cheeks as her gaze dropped for a moment, recalling those years of courtship, how she always felt perfectly assured in his affection for her. Even in the moments that she had grown frustrated that she did not know him fully, she was again buoyed by the knowledge that their love bloomed far deeper than that.

"And how long will I love you afterwards?" His fingers caressed hers light as a feather, his eyes lighting as he finished his question. "Well, I suppose that one is rather unfair, considering there is no possible measure of an answer."

She let herself show a shadow of a smile to him, the skirt soft beneath one of her hands and her husband's skin even more wondrous beneath the other.

His tone grew more serious but remained soothing to her ears. "If it never is again, it does not matter to me. All that matters is that you are my wife, and that I can share my life with you is the most precious gift, and one which I will always treasure." At the moment her eyes caught with his again he gave her the most beautiful smile that lifted her heart. "You are always that to me. My brave and beautiful Anna May Smith, who granted me the greatest honour the day she became Anna May Bates."

She couldn't help herself smiling, and John took great joy in the way her features started to brighten faintly. Taking a different track, he aimed to coax a little more of that beautiful inner light of hers to shine.

"I remember it as if it were yesterday, that morning." He ran a finger over the warm metal moulded to her hand, not needing to delve very far back into his mind to recall. "I rose well before dawn, the anticipation in the pit of my stomach keeping me up most of the night. Did you notice how I hardly ate a crumb at breakfast? I had to do all I could to stop Mrs Patmore from staring and tutting at me."

Anna sighed softly and nodded, enjoying hearing about the day from his perspective.

"The morning couldn't go quickly enough. I was awfully clumsy with his Lordship's things. I just wondered about the suit I had, whether it would be good enough. I could have done with some assistance in putting it on myself, it seemed to take forever. But I enjoyed getting ready, knowing what it was all for." His words flowed easily, caught up in nostalgia. "The bus was quite full, and I worried that the heat would make me sweat. The sun was shining brighter than it had all day by the time I arrived outside. For some reason I started to fret, thinking perhaps you wouldn't be let away after all. And before I could think any more, there you were."

The grin that covered his face transported her back to that most perfect day, most clearly.

"I don't think I really believed it until your arm was in mine, until I saw you smiling up at me. I swore that I was dreaming. Until I held your hand," he glanced down to where her hand was still entwined with his. "Until I kissed your lips."

His gaze flickered consciously away from her mouth and he shifted a little where he sat. Anna felt something within her sink, knowing it would still be strange for a while for either of them to consider or even mention.

Drawing up her courage, she pressed her palm more firmly against his, making John meet her eyes again. She gave him a watery smile.

"I do want to be like that with you again, you know," she said in a small but certain voice. He was her husband. Of course she wished to be with him in the way that a husband and wife were most natural together. "One day."

"Oh, my darling." John's voice was torn from him in an almost broken whisper. His fingers were light upon her hand, and as he kissed the back of her hand but once, his lips were even lighter, almost so she was unable to feel them. His arm placed itself gently around her shoulders. "You needn't promise me anything. What we have is all that I want."

Anna's worries about the future faded as they sat together, her wedding outfit draped over both their knees. She remembered the joy that she had felt then, less fragmented now as it was before. She felt her eyes begin to droop and wondered briefly if she could risk having a little nap before she would have to ready for the evening's duty. The noisy grumble of her stomach echoed in the room, causing them both to startle and then chuckle softly.

"I might have forgotten to have luncheon," she uttered, causing John to look at her with mild consternation before his eyes softened. "There are some cakes downstairs, but I thought we would have those for supper."

"Well, I don't see the harm in going against the grain," John smiled.

* * *

Disturbed nights effortlessly followed peaceful ones, no rhyme or rhythm to the pattern. The anxiety that occupied her took on many different forms, from short and sudden bursts to awful, deadening stretches that lasted for days. Something as simple as a louder step upon the stairs or a phantom breeze that mistakenly caused one of the bells to ring brought on an attack. In some respects they were easier to deal with at the house; she would say it was a funny turn or she just hadn't eaten enough. Often people were too occupied with their own tasks to even notice. She hated that they afflicted her at the cottage just as much, making her feel suffocated in her safe haven, but there was no discrimination or exception. She coped the best she could, which was mainly to feel it and then let it pass largely unnoticed.

Her fear reached its peak when it was announced that Lord Grantham would be taking a trip to America, just before the annual bazaar. Even though she knew there was no need to fret, she was not ready to be without John for such a prolonged period. He promised that he would not go, and they sat up together the evening through after Lord Grantham's departure, Anna barely letting go of his hand for a second. Telling Lady Mary of her ordeal was a small price to pay to ensure her husband could remain with her. Six months from the day passed, leaves turning golden upon the trees and John remaining precisely what she needed him to be, helping to distract her until the clock struck a minute past midnight. It never made it disappear. There was much that she wasn't ready to say, and she wasn't certain that she could ever tell it all. Her moments of introspection remained, but there was no unhealthy balance. Their home provided her with a place to release and a place to retreat, where she was free enough to build herself back together at her own pace and in her own time. She was utterly grateful for its shelter, in every sense of the word.

Despite being so very loving and attentive with her, Anna could see that John was not taking care of himself as much. He was often lethargic, relied upon his cane more than he normally would around the cottage. He grew quieter and more turned into himself. It was almost as though he had reverted back to the time before they were married, when it could prove to be quite the effort to get him to speak about his troubles, as well as his joys.

Anna watched him as she brought the tea she had made for them both into the sitting room. His large frame uncomfortably bundled into the armchair, head bowed and shoulders tight. She thought with regret how it used to be nothing to her to place her hands upon him after a tiring day, delighting in hearing his contented sighs as she worked him free of knots. His bad leg was stiff and unmoving, the other bobbing restlessly. He only seemed to be aware of her presence when she placed the tray down on the low table in front of him, and she rolled her eyes lightly, hands held on her hips.

"I can hear you ticking away from the kitchen," she quipped, coaxing a small half-smile from him. "I hope it's nothing bad."

"I'm thinking of you, so that could never be bad."

Usually such a response would reassure her, but she could see something else lurking in his eyes. She knew that if she simply left him to his own devices that he would go back to being strong and silent, and nothing would be solved.

"I wish you'd come out with it, whatever it is." The old familiar words eased from her tongue as she sat herself down in the seat opposite, the glug of the tea as it fell steadily into the cups softening the atmosphere. "I won't break into pieces, you know."

John looked at her a little cautiously, sighing while she offered him a true smile. After some contemplation he half-heartedly waved a hand in front of him.

"You have enough to worry about," he lamented softly. "I have no need to burden you with what is on my mind."

"I think you have every need," Anna responded keenly. "I know I certainly do. It worries me to know you are keeping things to yourself, even if it is for my sake."

The guilt that was all about him was palpable, knowing that his old habitual ways were causing her to fret unnecessarily. He frowned, deep lines bedding into his brow, and Anna expected him to say no more on the matter, but it seemed that her candour had given him the push.

"My head hasn't been set straight today," he confessed, quickly noticing the dark and worrying flicker in her irises. "Don't worry, it's not about what you think."

Anna exhaled, her shoulders sagging and a great deal of her tension swiftly ebbing away.

"I only care about you," he uttered with a sincerity that could not be doubted. Anna smiled naturally; she loved this man with all of her heart, and even more that she did not own. She had no hesitation in reaching her arm out, placing her small hand part way over his, grazing the tips of her fingers over his knuckles. The gesture made him relax, if only briefly, before sorrow consumed him again. "I try, with all of my might, and I know it is wrong of me, that I have no claim over it. But I wake up, and it covers me completely." His voice was heavy, laced with regret. "Some days it is all I can think about."

She knew by now that it did not make an effect, that he perceived her no differently for it. She was only mournful that all that she had experienced was making him so wretched, worse for the fact he did not know of the exact details.

"I have seen the cruelty of this world too plain. I have witnessed suffering, God knows that I have caused enough of it. But you, my love, you should not bear it, not ever again." Though his eyes were distant, his voice was wrought, bringing her much closer to him. "You are far too good and kind, and you do so much, so selflessly…" He began to trail off, holding her hand tighter but with gentleness that could not be faulted. The gentility she deserved, with all of her being. He would never dare to call her beliefs into question but he knew that he had no favour with a God that allowed such agony to be brought upon someone as perfect as she was.

John let go of his bitterness, looking at his wife's face, still soft despite her weariness, and always indescribably beautiful, holding so much forgiveness, a kind that he was not quite as ready as yet to show to the world.

"It is my duty to protect you, and I could have done so, but I didn't, because I was complacent and foolish. I failed you, and I despise myself for it." He looked more lost and defeated than he had ever done, through the long battles with Vera and the unjust life sentence that had been placed upon him. It broke Anna's heart to see. "How can you ever trust me again? I swore that I would never let you down again, but it would seem that I cannot stop myself from being a damn fool."

"John Bates, I never want to hear that from you." He was a little astonished to see the fire set deep within her surging up to her eyes, the spark that had been stolen emerging again. "You could never let me down."

He knew for certain he had, and it was a long and shameful list that he was adding to, but he would not be stubborn enough to argue. It was not what Anna needed, and anything he did from now on was only to do the best by and for her. He owed her so much, that he wasn't sure he would be able to pay.

Her blue eyes were shining, only with a few tears in the light of the fire that burned softly.

"I trust you with my life and everything I have, and that will never change."

Though she too had been foolish to doubt his ability to trust her those months ago, those fears were discarded from her mind now. She stroked his hand with a touch a little more sure, to add weight to her words.

"I don't want you to know pain," he repeated softly, trying not to break her heart further. "I want life to be perfect for you."

"That's a very considerable task to achieve, Mr Bates."

His expression remained set, sombre, as he turned over a weight in his mind, the sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

"I want to suffer for you."

"And then we'd both be miserable. What a fine time that would be."

John should have known that even now he could not reckon with the fact that his wife had an answer for everything. Anna sighed as she placed her hand back into her lap, vaguely aware that the pot of tea had already gone cold.

"It's very noble of you, but I believe we're past all that." Things were changing, she was changing, very slowly but more noticeable with each day. Certainly, just last week she wouldn't have been able to appear as light-hearted as she had for moments then, even with all the will in the world. She needed to let him know that it was up to him to make some changes too, in a gentle way. "You must promise me something."

"I'd promise you the world."

Anna had to smile at his eagerness to please. He truly would do anything, even put his hand to the impossible, for her.

"I want you to tell me when things are bothering you. Never mind fretting over me, because I've already told you where I stand on the matter." Her eyes softened, and she saw that it was starting to chip away at him, sinking in. "If it is to get easier, then we must be open with each other." She was too aware of the clench in her chest, the lurch in her stomach. "I will try, just as much."

"You have no obligations, not to me," he replied, putting her at ease and once again overlooking himself.

The clock swung closer to the time they would usually part to sleep. Anna was determined that all that they had achieved, not just in these months but in the years previous, would not go to waste.

She stood, half of her lit by the glow of the fire, extending her arm almost like a child, innocently sealing a vow.

"Promise?"

His fingers slid like ghosts amongst hers, the embers falling upon his face as he started to softly smile. "I promise."

Their words held within the walls, adding to their durability, they went separately to sleep peacefully and this time undisturbed.

* * *

The promise of  _no more secrets_  was a good one. They kept to the pact, Anna as far as she was able. It made things easier for her that Lady Mary offered a listening ear regardless of whether the offer was always accepted. She felt a little guilty that John did not have the same outlet when he surely needed it. There were a couple of times when she descended the staircase and saw him emerging from Mrs Hughes's parlour, clouds of shadow lifted from his face. The level of openness they had reached, assisted by the confidence of others, truly helped her on her way back from the wilderness.

The nights grew longer, the first frosts of winter beginning to chill the earth. Even after a long day, John always made sure that the woodpile for the fire was well stocked. Anna dug out the extra blankets and covered them upon the bed, knowing as she fit them that her feet would remain cold.

On their half-days, they spent longer sitting up talking steadily and smiling more too. It was as the hour grew late on one such evening with no particular significance and when John made to lift himself from the edge of the bed that the request left her, with no apparent amount of forethought.

"Stay with me."

His eyes flickered with concern and uncertainty in believing what he thought he might have heard. Anna only returned with a smile that showed the warmth she felt, sitting wrapped in one of her shawls. The time had come, quite unannounced, but she only knew that it felt right. To be but another night without her husband by her side would surely cause her to crumble, for all the strength she had shown outwardly. Making sure that she was comfortable above all else, John lay himself down slowly on his side of the bed. He intended to stay on top of the covers but Anna shook her head, saying that he would freeze to death. Unfurling them with his help, she held her breath as he climbed in, careful to keep his distance but still closer than he had been to her for a long while.

Neither slept all that much that first night, John leaving a single candle at the bedside burning at Anna's request. She wanted to be able to look at him, trace all the features of his face and the form that was visible to her. Knowing the warm weight that was not far from her side, learning again how it felt just to have it there. He smiled when he closed his eyes for a few brief moments, unguarded, and she blinked away her tears. She had not realised how intolerable the nights had been, how many there had been. She had missed him so much.

The space that was large enough to fit another being lessened by centimetres each night. They lay their hands over each other over the covers, comforted by soft touches. Anna worried that she would frighten him with her terrors, knowing they could creep up with her unaware. When she felt herself getting suddenly tense she turned onto her side, listening to John's steady breathing and the thud of his heartbeat when it was quiet enough, aligning her own in time once more. She would go to sleep close by his side but held away so that he did not reach to touch her mistakenly. After the haze of slumber lifted in the early morning she felt a little flush of embarrassment to realise her arm had ended up draped over his chest, their legs tangled together.

Slowly, certainty resurfaced and old routines made themselves known with the comfort of time passed and the patience of love to reassure.

It had been a tiring day, preparing for the final large party of the year at the house. Caught by unwanted thoughts in certain moments, she had had to stop dead in the middle of what she was doing several times and everything had seemed to take so much longer to recover afterwards. Still, there would not be much left that they were required to do, which made her feel better, as did the fact that they were home for another night now and would soon enough be lost to sleep.

She was all ready for bed, wearing the heavy nightgown she was now accustomed to, save for one final preparation that needed to be made. Though her eyes were close to drooping completely shut, Anna stayed sitting at the small vanity, not understanding why her body should remain upright and apparently unable to leave.

Though he was ready for bed too, John pottered around the room, adjusting items at the bedside. He always waited for Anna to be the first to climb in, giving her time still to adjust. He looked to where a stream of moonlight fell upon Anna's head where she sat, smiling to himself as she let out a long yawn.

"I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I don't have the energy or inclination to take out a few pins, it seems."

Usually it was the first thing she did before she even changed her clothes, the implements pinching at her scalp after lengthy hours. He thought of how she would rub her head vigorously when they had been discarded, relieved to be able to breathe. He remembered how she had suffered from a nightmare the night before, turning out of his arms with urgency. His notions turned sadder as he considered that unconsciously her actions, or lack of, may have been more deliberate.

"I'll still be sitting here come dawn at this rate," she sighed, a softer note in her voice that made him feel more assured. She seemed so small, swamped by the swathes of fabric that clothed her.

A small silence lingered, which made Anna realise how ludicrous she was being. At the moment she raised a palm to cover the back of her head, John spoke with a little waver, his tones always so suitable.

"I could do it for you." Before he had even spoke he worried that it had been too soon. "That is, of course, if you would like me to."

His hesitancy was partly endearing, and a smile started on Anna's face while her reflection nodded her acceptance.

Her shoulders rose up despite herself, waiting, and then his hands were there, upon her head. She did not feel his fingers taking out the pins, so light was his touch, only realising when her hair tumbled to her shoulders. She believed that the job had been done and so stuttered a breath when, very delicately, one of his hands raked the length of her tresses. Only once or twice, a few minutes apart. Anna's eyes fluttered closed; she was lost in some moment from long ago. He always loved her hair, held it in some kind of reverence. She remembered being a little bemused but thoroughly liking the attention he paid to it, months and years ago. She opened her eyes again seconds later, fixing them upon the mirror. She watched herself, but more keenly watched her ever faithful husband behind her, the small wooden hairbrush held in his large palm. As gentle as ever, he swept the bristles down, combing out her hair in stages until the dull shine glistened once more. Anna did not take her gaze from him, the studied concentration on his face upon his task coupled with the rhythm of sensation sending her to occupy another world. A world where no cares existed whatsoever. His fingers carefully lay the brush back down on the vanity, the back of it making a small tapping sound which snapped Anna out of her reverie.

She uttered a small but deeply sincere 'thank you' to his reflection, and his eyes gleamed at her before he turned away, leaving her to put her loosened hair into a braid, her energy renewed. When she finished securing the ribbon, she couldn't stop her gaze from wandering over her shoulder to where John was sitting, rifling through the pages of a book though he fought to keep his own eyes open. Smiling softly, she rose to stand, seeking for them both to get some much needed rest.

Little by little, life was starting over again. Not quite exactly the same as it used to be, but the adjustments slotted well with the remembrances. She involved herself more happily with her work, drawing less concern as she went about, most days with a smile on her face. Though she had never felt uncomfortable there she was more at ease at home, hardly startling at the quiet or the slightest bit of noise. Those walls had welcomed her when she had been near her worst and now they let her grow, giving her room to breathe easily.

They met on the landing just outside the bathroom, almost bumping into one another as Anna was making her way to their room. It caused them both to laugh lightly, the rumble that came from John harmonious to her ears. There was a time not too long ago when she believed laughter and joy had been banished from their life.

"I know you're tired," he said softly, stooping down a little to her height. "I won't be too long."

She shook her head to the side, wanting him to take as long as he needed in his nightly routine. Her eyes cast down, she noticed that he had already rolled up his sleeves, the dark hair on his forearms capturing her attention. She did not wish to compare, it paining her deeply to do so, but she was also comforted beyond belief to know that they were so very different.

She left the door to the bedroom open a little, changing into her nightgown while John washed, as was customary for them to do. The habit of it soothed her. In the silence she could hear water splashing against the sink, travelling down the little landing. She would often be beneath the covers by the time he returned, now staying in the room while he changed. After she took down and then braided her hair, she brushed her hands over the end of the bed, smoothing creases out of the covers before she perched herself on the edge. The silence echoed, began to grow louder, but Anna refused to give in to it.

John entered, his hair still a little wet at the ends. He seemed a little surprised at the fact that Anna was still up and not in bed, though he did not give his wonderings voice. Closing the door softly behind him out of habit, he hesitated as Anna did not move a muscle, staring at him and every move that he did not make. He let out a breath that he had been holding too long when she got to her feet and went over to where he stood, her eyes still pinned to him.

"Let me try something," she murmured, a steely determination in her gaze which melted when he looked down at her tenderly. John silently gulped the lump in his throat, amazed by her courage as she raised her arms towards him.

"Anna, you don't have to," he felt the need to utter.

"No, but I want to."

He half-smiled weakly, preparing himself for whatever was to come and vowing not to make too much of it, though it was a massive step. He had never doubted her bravery and right now she was showing it most wonderfully and unexpectedly, to him.

She exhaled slowly, determined not to shake. While her eyes were locked with his, his warm gaze giving her confidence, she laid one palm flat against his clothed chest, followed by the other seconds later. Anna felt a small jolt run through her body, a spark of life at the feel of him beneath her hands. She kept them still, relishing being able to touch him after so long, assured by his sturdy solidity. She almost couldn't believe that he was still here, that he hadn't disintegrated from her touch. John did not move, watching her considerately, the only thing he did to breathe in and out. Anna shifted her right hand along a little and closed her eyes, trying not to break down at the feel of his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingertips. He was real. He loved her so much. She felt her fear fade away, knowing that she was with her husband in their own home, and that there was no safer place on this earth. She could take this step, for now.

Craning her head up to look at him again, she smiled a small smile as her hands followed suit. The stiff collar had been removed by him long before and it was the more pliable one of his shirt she was met with, her fingers lingering for a few moments before she started to undo the buttons. She fumbled with the first, but soon became swifter. John kept his eyes on the top of her head and his arms by his sides, so full of quiet admiration, not wanting to do anything to break the perfect moment or startle her. She seemed to do that herself, her hands trembling suddenly halfway down and coming to a stop, rested against him. His eyes began to fill with tears, believing he could have done more to not allow her to push herself.

"It's okay," he whispered in the softest voice, bringing his hands slowly up to finish the task himself, as he should have started it. Before he could reach, Anna's eyes, so blue and striking to his soul, met with his. In the next moment, her fingers curled once more, opening the rest of the buttons fluidly.

She placed her hands upon his arms when she finished, holding them there against the fabric, able to feel the movement of his muscles and sinews underneath. Slowly, they went up to his broad shoulders, and she brought the shirt from him, letting it fall to the floor. The tips of her fingers brushed at his hairline and then the nape of his neck, going back and forth as she brought back her memories to life with each small caress. She moved to splay her palms at his shoulders, over his undershirt that remained. John fought to stop himself making any noises when she let her hands fall, roaming over his torso. Her touch was about discovery, not desire, though Anna was surprised to be aware of a small stirring in the pit of her stomach. It delighted her at the same time, giving her hope for somewhere in the future.

She raised one hand, turning it so the backs of her fingers ran along the inside of his forearm, mapping the place she hadn't dared to so much as look at, let alone touch in the last few months. She repeated the action on the opposite side, drawing in breath before her fingers dipped to the hem of his undershirt. John looked at her all the while, letting her know she could stop any time she wished. Walls were coming down with the passing of every second and she felt herself stop clinging on so tight. She grasped the edges softly in her hands, and John raised his arms as she pulled the shirt over his body. Anna felt briefly exhilarated, adrenaline surging through her limbs and leaving her quite exhausted.

The sight of him was enough, and then suddenly it wasn't. Her hands rose again, meeting his neck, his bare shoulders, the thatch of hair that covered his chest. She had forgotten so much, blocked it from her mind for what had been an eternity. He was her husband. He loved her from now until the end of time. As she kept her hands pressed upon him, he told her as much, whispering words of his adoration to let her know how much she was loved.

"My darling, you are so special."

"You mean everything to me, you are my world."

"I can't remember life before you…there is no after you."

"I adore you, my wonderful Anna."

His words surrounded her, made her feel safe and protected and alive again. She could not stop her emotion from spilling out, though she was able to hold back her tears as she gazed up towards him. Taking his hands into her own, she linked their fingers briefly – a precursor – before she placed his palms on the arches of her hips.

"Kiss me," she said softly but steadily, pushing down any reticence that remained. She knew that she wanted this, she knew that she was safe.

She missed him, so very much.

"Please."

She gave a little nod of her head after uttering her plea, her eyes imploring and remaining locked with his until they closed of their own accord, remembering at last how this went. One of his hands tenderly cupped the back of her head as she drew closer. His lips were soft as they pressed to hers gently, the short kiss achingly sweet, all that she could ask for. In those few seconds before she was frightened of what she would remember, but as soon as he met with her, so tender and loving, all she knew was him. Her husband, just as he always was. She felt cold night air tempered by warmth, her heart thumping against her chest, being happier than ever before in her life following his slightly awkward proposal to her.

She felt renewed, in small part, blessed beyond belief that she had been granted the chance to begin again.

Her wish would have been for more, to be able to give more, but they both knew there was no need to rush. It had been quite a leap, both felt the significance and could not underestimate it.

Breathing back tears, Anna opened out her arms and released when John gathered her into his. She hugged into him, her cheek against his chest, the sensation of skin upon skin soothing and intimate. How relieved she was that it had not been lost forever. Now he was not reserved about holding her close, pressing light kisses against her head, arms circled around her, never to leave. Her hands reached up, stroking at his hairline, happier than ever before that she was able to offer him comfort, again.

It was a step, forward not back. There were many, many more to come; they did not fool themselves about that. But they had taken it together, and that was what mattered most of all.

* * *

The spring sunshine was a welcome sight after such a long winter. It spilled through into the hallway and Anna closed her eyes to it, appreciating the light upon her face. She spent much longer occupying it now, the shadows not entirely gone but far less consuming than they were.

It had been more than a year. A whole revolving of the earth around the sun. It was strange, the ways time could be measured. Such a large shift could never be properly charted, hour by hour or day by day, but things did change indeed. And in the same respect, they also stayed fixed. Nothing so disruptive could ever alter the foundation of the world, or interrupt the movement of time.

She knew that from the way they would watch the sun rise every morning, the way that on clear nights they looked upon stars crossing the sky, John pointing out the constellations to her in the times she needed a focus and something bright to gaze upon.

She felt it in the way she lay in his arms every night, her head pillowed upon his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in her ear, his pulse connecting with her own.

His soft half-step came down the stairs, and she turned, meeting him with a smile as he took the final footfall down.

"I'm not sure I'll need a coat today," he commented, squinting his eyes a little against the light that was shining in.

"Better just to be sure. You can always take it off later if needs be, but the nights still get chilly."

He nodded, smiling at her fussing, opening his frame up so that she could put the coat on him, with a bit of assistance. It was something she had only started doing in the last couple of weeks, of her own volition. He certainly did not dismiss anything from her, but he was aware of the need for going slowly. She was always the one to try things out, and John couldn't help but smile when he thought that had always been the case. Anna handed him his hat in her dainty hand, and he placed it firmly upon his head.

He noticed a small frown line her features, and felt a too familiar pang of worry strike up in his chest.

Anna shook her head, quick to dismiss his fears.

"It's such a beautiful day," she mused, adjusting the frill of one of her light gloves upon her wrist. "I just wish that we could spend it here instead. It'd be nice to make a proper start on planting in the garden again." They hadn't done any last spring, not surprisingly. She let out a small sigh, rolling her eyes amusedly. "It seems the case that all our half-days are destined to be rainy."

It was true that the last few had been, and the many before then too cold to venture outside very far.

Her husband gave her a smile that lit up the spark in her heart.

"The sooner we make our way, the sooner we can be back. I don't expect I'll have a very busy day, what with his Lordship meeting with Mr Branson for most of the day about the estate." The smile reached his eyes, making them crinkle and light with hope. "I'm sure I can do something when we're back."

Anna's own lips curled, her spirits lifting higher in anticipation. "So long as I get to watch."

"You know that I hold your opinion in the highest regard."

She giggled softly, and then took the steps forward to open the door before them, the gentle warmth of the day flooding in. John was reliably at her back, and as he took his steps down outside, her arm met with his, linking firmly there to remain as they took the journey up to the house, the smile remaining on her face too.

In the darkest days, even in the days when she had come back, she had doubted whether she would ever feel truly safe again. But now she felt safe, and so much more. Most days she felt happy and hopeful. Every day she felt loved.

And it was all thanks to being home, in the place that most felt like home, with the heart that she called home, from the moment they had met.


End file.
